


Newt's

by mchase21



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-12-22 18:56:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11973594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mchase21/pseuds/mchase21
Summary: Run. Descent. Jump. Recovery. Hope. Escape. Flare. Sacrifice. Death.Or a collection of events from Newt's life. Updating every day until the end.





	1. Run

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all! Decided to write a collection of snapshots from Newt's life, mostly looking at key events and people that shaped his story. It starts out suggesting Minewt, but moves more into Newtmas by the end. I'll be uploading a chapter a day until we're done, so get ready for an exciting ride :)

_SHUCK. SHUCK. SHUCK._

Newt gasped for breath as he ran through the dark corridors of the maze. His muscles were screaming at him, begging him to stop and rest, but he knew that giving in to their demands would spell his death. An angry, piercing screech came from behind, and Newt pushed his legs to carry him even faster. 

_I’m not dying here. No shucking way._

He glanced at his watch. One minute until doors close. Perfect. He raced toward the Glade. His timing needed to be just right. Too late and he would be stuck in the maze for the night (and no one survives a night in the maze); too early and he would lead the griever straight into their home. He rounded the final corner. He could see the Glade in front of him now, a light at the end of the long, dark tunnel. Minho stood at the entrance, arms crossed and staring intently into the depths of the maze. The moment he saw Newt, his eyes lit up, and he began screaming, urging him to run faster.

A loud boom shook the walls of the maze. Newt swore. He knew what that sound meant. As if in response, the doors started grinding together, and Newt panicked. _I’m not going to make it_ , his mind supplied unhelpfully as a wave of terror washed over him. Minho’s shouts became more insistent, desperate even, and Newt pushed himself even harder. _I am not letting him down_ , he repeated to himself over and over as he closed the distance between himself and safety. With a final shout, he dove forward, tumbling through the gap and onto the soft grass of the Glade as the doors slammed shut behind him. 

He lay there for a long time, eyes closed, breathing heavily. Every fiber of his body ached, and every time he tried to move, a sharp pain shot through the offending body part, as if being stabbed by a thousand needles. His throat was parched and sore, and every breath of air flowed through it like sandpaper. Eventually, both his breathing and heart rate returned to normal, and he opened his eyes, noticing Minho kneeling next to him.

“Welcome back,” he said with a smirk and snickered to himself when Newt flipped him off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, feedback, kudos = love <3


	2. Descent

Newt slowed to a walk as he entered the Glade, taking deep, calculated breaths as he tried to get his heart rate back under control. When they first started running the maze, Newt had assumed that his body would get used to the daily exercise at some point. Now, almost a year into their endeavor, he had given up that notion. Sure, it was much easier than it had been during that first week – when they had had to take frequent breaks out in the maze and went to sleep every night so sore that they could hardly move – but his body was far from perfectly acclimated. After all, maintaining a brisk jog for 10 hours straight is a difficult task for even the most well trained athlete. 

As he proceeded toward the map room, he noticed several Gladers turning toward him, analyzing his body language for any sign of progress toward their goal. He refused to meet their gaze, instead staring straight ahead at his destination. He had learned long ago that no good could come from answering the inquisitive looks they cast upon him whenever he returned. His lack of news always stamped out those hopeful glimmers in their eyes, leaving him feeling like a failure. And so he trudged forward, choosing to ignore his friends completely rather than give them bad news for the 300th time. 

When Newt stepped into the map room, he noticed that most of the runners had already returned. They were scattered throughout the space, each busy drawing up the sections they had explored that day. Newt sighed. Business as usual meant that no one had found anything worth mentioning. Another day gone and they were still no closer to solving the maze.

Minho looked up when he heard Newt enter. “Find anything?” he asked, though the look on his face suggested that he already knew the answer.

“What do you bloody think?” Newt snapped back. He was already exhausted and tense from the day’s run, and the stifling heat and mugginess of the room only served to irritate him more. 

“Well, no need to get pissy,” Minho retorted as annoyance flashed across his features.

Newt chose to let the matter drop, instead picking up some paper to sketch out his route. He knew from experience that fighting would not get them anywhere. They had been through that only a few months prior, when the lack of significant progress had caused tensions to reach an all-time high. There had been much shouting and screaming, shoving and finger pointing, and on several occasions, all-out brawls had sent a few of them to the med-jacks. Gradually, the expectations shifted, and the arguments slowly died out, but the frustrations still lingered, ready to ignite conflict at a moment’s notice.

Newt finished his sketch and placed it in the appropriate pile before walking out of the room silently. He made his way to the kitchen, exchanged a few words with Frypan while getting his food, and sat down at a deserted table like he’d done every day that week. He’d discovered recently that he preferred eating alone; it allowed him to calm down after the day’s work and gave him plenty of time to sort through the fears and doubts that crept into his mind whenever he was in the maze. 

He was suddenly pulled out of his thoughts when a tray clanged down across from him. He recoiled from the sudden noise before relaxing again once his brain registered Minho’s presence in front of him.

“Eating alone again?” he questioned, a concerned expression on his face.

“Yeah, just wanted some quiet,” Newt nodded. Just then, a loud chorus of _ohhhs_ came from a table across the room – probably insults flying, if Newt had to guess – and he gestured toward it. “So, avoiding that, really,” he added, satisfied with the irony of the situation. 

“Fair enough,” Minho chuckled, before he got serious again. “But you’ve been sitting by yourself every day for a week now. Something bothering you?”

Newt looked up at Minho and saw the Asian staring at him expectantly. “Nah, it’s nothin’,” Newt replied after a while, returning his attention to the plate in front of him. He poked at the potatoes with his fork, not really in the mood to eat anymore.

“Oh come on Newt. What kind of best friend would I be if I were fooled by that?” Minho sounded offended when he spoke, so Newt glanced at him again. He was met with a look of mock hurt that was so ridiculous Newt almost laughed out loud. Instead, he managed to keep it to a short huff and a small smile, which seemed to satisfy Minho, as the boy broke out into a wide grin. “So,” he prompted, more gently this time, “what’s on your mind?”

Newt sighed, burying his face in his hands. “I dunno, mate,” he said finally. “I just… Do you ever feel like we’re trying to solve something that has no bugging answer?” When Minho didn’t respond, Newt continued, “I just feel like we’ve been doing the same thing day after day, and we’re getting nowhere. I’m starting to wonder if we’re looking for something that just doesn’t bloody exist.”

“Yeah… It definitely feels that way sometimes,” Minho agreed, looking thoughtful. “But I’m not willing to believe we were sent to the middle of this shucking maze if we weren’t supposed to solve it. There has to be a way out, and we’ll find it.”

Newt hummed. Despite the conviction in his voice and the fact that Newt really, truly wanted to believe his words, part of him just couldn’t shake the feeling that there was no escape, that they had all been put here as part of some cruel game or as lab rats in some wicked experiment. “I just wish we were making more progress. Everyone here’s working hard keeping this place running; the least we could do is give them some good news every now and then,” Newt admitted, eyes cast down in defeat.

“We are making progress, Newt,” Minho reassured the blond. “Every map we draw gets us one step closer to understanding the patterns out there. We’ll figure it out soon enough.”

Newt nodded and stuck a potato in his mouth, chewing slowly. “Alright,” he said upon swallowing. “I’m gonna head to bed a little early today.” He collected his dishes and stood, preparing to take them back to the kitchen.

“Okay,” Minho uttered with a frown. “But hey, Newt?” he added just as Newt started walking away.

Newt paused and turned back toward Minho. “Yeah?”

“Promise me you’ll come talk if you ever need it.”

Newt stared at the Asian for a while before nodding curtly and walking away, taking his plates back to the kitchen and leaving them in a large bin. He then made his way back to his spot outside the homestead, lying down on his blanket while his mind wandered over all that had happened over the course of the past year, and was shocked when he discovered how much he had changed. The fire that had driven him, that had made him want to be a runner, that had kept his hope alive day after day had finally been snuffed out by the unforgiving maze, leaving him feeling empty and hallow inside. He thought back to the day he had encountered the griever – how he had run for his life, unwilling to cede to death – and was terrified when he realized that if he were put in that same situation again, he might not run quite as hard as he did then. 

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to calm his suddenly accelerated breathing. _No, you can’t give up. We’ll make it out of here some day._ His body slowly relaxed, and soon, he felt the dark tendrils of sleep tugging at his brain. He let them take him, succumbing to the tight grasp of a deep slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm rather proud of "wicked experiment" :)
> 
> Comments, feedback, kudos = love <3


	3. Jump

Newt awoke with tears in his eyes. He buried his face in his pillow, sobbing lightly. Today was the day; he had decided that the previous night. One way or another, by sundown, he would be free of this prison.

He pushed himself to his feet, looking around at the Gladers still sleeping quietly next to him. He studied each of them, memorizing their features and recalling their experiences together. They were the reason he had made it even this long, and he was grateful to have had the privilege to call them friends. His vision blurred when he realized that there was a good chance he’d never see them again, but he wiped away the tears before they could fall.

_I’ve failed them. I don’t deserve their friendship anyway._

He trudged toward the bathroom, readying himself for another day of running. His limbs ached with every step, and he instantly regretted staying up so late the night before. But more importantly, his tired mind felt clouded and hazy, making holding onto a single thought for more than a few seconds close to impossible. Newt scrunched his face in concern, since he knew that being alert was of utmost importance out in the maze. 

_Well, it probably doesn’t matter. There’s a good chance I won’t need to find my way back anyway._

Newt groaned. He didn’t really know when his thoughts had taken such a depressing turn. Minho had noticed his change in mood and confronted him about it, but that had been almost seven months ago. He had experienced several ups and downs since then, but this most recent down was the worst. He sighed. If Newt was honest with himself, his mental state had probably been declining ever since he arrived in the Glade. The past year and a half had slowly chipped away at his strength and determination until he was just a shell of his former self. He used to be excited about going into the maze every morning, eager to find something new or useful; now, he viewed it as a chore, drudgery that had to be completed even though he knew his efforts would be in vain. 

He finished up in the bathroom and headed toward the kitchen to grab some breakfast, where he ran into Minho. The boy gave him a quick once-over before exclaiming, “Shuck, Newt! You look awful!”

Newt gave him a death stare. “Well, good morning to you too.”

Minho smirked before trying again in a softer tone. “I just meant you look exhausted. Didn’t sleep well last night?”

“No, not really.” He sighed, avoiding the other’s eyes. He grabbed two sandwiches from the tray Frypan had left out for them, unwrapping one after stuffing the other in his pack. He took a bite, forcing himself to swallow the food. It wasn’t that the sandwich was bad – Frypan was actually really good at making simple ingredients into delicious meals. Newt just found himself having less and less of an appetite as the weeks crawled on. He consumed just enough to get him through his runs, but otherwise, he left the food to his fellow Gladers. 

_They’re the ones who deserve it anyway._

“I’m sorry, man,” Minho said as he grabbed several sandwiches of his own. “You sure you’re good to run today? You could take the day off and catch up on your rest. Don’t want you messing up out there and dying on my watch!” He finished with a teasing grin, though his eyes betrayed his light-hearted tone.

“Nah, I’m fine, Min,” Newt lied. “Thanks though,” he added quickly, and Minho nodded. Newt stared at Minho for a moment, wishing he could tell the boy how much his friendship and support had meant to him these past months. Ever since he found out Newt had not been feeling well, Minho had made sure to check up on him every week or so, casually asking about his well being in passing. Initially, Newt had embraced the opportunities, revealing the fears and concerns that plagued him whenever he was in the maze. At some point, though, he stopped feeling better after their talks. Seeing no further reason to burden Minho, Newt began to shut him out, putting on a smile when interacting with him or anyone else that fell as soon as they left. The only time Newt allowed himself to fully experience and confront his emotions now was late at night, when everyone else was fast asleep. He would lay awake for hours, wallowing in hopelessness and despair and self-loathing, before finally giving in to his exhaustion and crying himself to sleep.

They proceeded to the East Doors, reaching them just as they began to open. Minho greeted the other runners briefly before leading the charge into the maze, and Newt headed toward his assigned section for the day, weaving through the dark corridors expertly. The rhythmic thumping of his shoes against the stone path echoed off the massive walls, reminding Newt of how small and insignificant he was compared to the unforgiving maze. 

He pushed himself harder than he usually did, stopping only for lunch and water, desperately searching for something that they had missed the countless other times they’d explored this section. But as expected, he came up empty, gaining nothing from his efforts other than a painful stitch in his side. Newt was highly aware of the hours ticking by, each one that passed making him feel more worthless than the one before. His one job was to find a way to escape, and he had failed day after day, week after week, month after month. By mid-afternoon, Newt found himself curled up in a ball, sobbing uncontrollably. 

Eventually, his breathing evened out, and he stood, looking up at the wall in front of him. Thick vines of green ivy stretched halfway up the wall, probably strong enough to hold the weight of a young man. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his jitters. Though he had already made his decision – and his failure today had sealed his fate – he still hesitated now that he had to execute. 

_Ugh. You can’t even do this. You’re pathetic._

Newt grabbed his head, trying to silence the voice, but it was no use. He fell to his knees, tears flowing down his cheeks again. He hated this. He hated everything. A scream of frustration escaped from his lips, and he slammed his fists into the ground. He was doing this. He had to. It was the only escape.

He stepped forward, grabbing hold of the ivy and giving it an experimental tug. It seemed sturdy enough, and Newt hoisted himself up. He scaled the wall quickly, not giving himself time to dwell on his thoughts. Several times, the vines snapped under his weight, sending a surge of panic through his body as he slid down before he managed to grab another fistful of greenery, but he always kept going, determined not to fail at yet another thing. 

Halfway up, he paused for a short break. His arms were burning from the effort and his breaths came in long, heavy gasps. He glanced over his shoulder at the ground far below him. He couldn’t tell exactly how high up he was – the tears that blurred his vision made judging distance impossible – but he decided he had climbed enough. He closed his eyes, pressing his forehead against the wall in an attempt to steady himself. Now that he was so close, he felt pain and sorrow overwhelm him again, and he allowed himself to cry for the third time. Sobs shook his body as he remembered his friends, the ones who gave him hope, the ones he had lost, and the ones he had let down. 

A sudden shuffle to his right startled him, and he glanced in that direction. A metal insect emerged from the vines, peering at him as if curious about what he was able to do. His sadness quickly turned to anger as he realized that the Creators were still watching him, still monitoring his every move even now. 

“I don’t know who you are or why you did this,” he snarled at the camera embedded in the exoskeleton of the insect. “But you shanks have hurt a lot of good people. I hope you’re bloody happy.”

He leaned back, setting his feet firmly against the walls and inching his hands lower on the vines until he was almost parallel with the ground. The insect scurried closer, as if it finally understood what was happening and wanted to stop him. He closed his eyes and loosened his grip. 

“I’m sorry, Min,” he whispered. 

And with that, he let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, feedback, kudos = love <3


	4. Recovery

_The pain was short. The darkness was long._

_Oh my god, Newt._

_Leave me._

_How bad is it?_

_I’m surprised he’s alive._

~ ~ ~

Newt’s mind was numb. There was a persistent buzzing in the back of his brain. He had no idea what it was. He didn’t care. He felt like he was floating. Perhaps on a cloud. Light flooded his consciousness. Much too bright. Slowly. Slowly. He felt good. The world was spinning. Or was it? Where was the world? There was something above him. It wasn't moving. So the world couldn’t be spinning. Was he spinning? Why was he dizzy? The world faded.

~ ~ ~

The next time Newt was aware of his existence, the buzzing had diminished dramatically, he was much less dizzy, and his mind felt less numb. He still wasn’t clear-headed, but he was much closer. 

He opened his eyes. The room was dark, the only light coming from a single candle on the table next to his bed. He tried to sit up but was met with a sharp stab of pain in his chest. He hissed loudly, grimacing at the discomfort, and settled back into the sheets. The pain hadn’t even subsided when Minho appeared above him.

“NEWT!” the boy screamed, and Newt flinched at the sudden noise. “WHAT THE ACTUAL SHUCK WERE YOU THINKING?”

Before Newt had a chance to fully register his words, a groan came from the corner of the room. “Slim it, slinthead. You’re gonna wake up the whole Glade.” Newt looked over in that direction and saw Alby collapsed in a chair, rubbing his eyes as if he had just been woken up, which, Newt supposed, was probably the case. 

“What happened?” Newt groaned and winced again, as speaking also sent a jolt of pain through his side.

“What happened?” Minho repeated incredulously. “What shucking happened is I heard you scream in the maze, went looking for you, and found you in a pool of your own shucking blood! Then I had to drag your sorry behind back here, worried sick that you’d been stung, but for some reason you didn’t go through the Changing. So I went back out to where I found you and for some shucking reason it looks like someone was trying to climb the ivy on the walls right where you fell. So I ask again, WHAT THE ACTUAL SHUCK WERE YOU THINKING?”

“MINHO! I said SHUT IT!” Alby barked, now standing on the other side of the bed. He pulled up a chair and sat, leaning toward Newt with an unreadable expression on his face. “Newt, did you jump?” he asked gently.

Newt averted his gaze as tears welled up in his eyes. He struggled to put words together in response, and eventually gave up, opting instead for a weak, “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t shucking believe this,” Minho muttered. Newt heard brisk footsteps against the wooden floorboards, followed by the slam of a door. He squeezed his eyes shut, causing a few tears to slide down his cheeks. The last person he wanted to hurt was Minho, who had been like a brother to him. He felt a steady hand on his shoulder, and looked over at Alby.

“He’ll be back,” he said with a warm smile. “He just needs to vent a bit.” Newt nodded. “He cares about you a lot, you know. Spent every minute he wasn’t in the maze in here watching over you. Probably would’ve starved if I hadn’t brought that slinthead food every day,” Alby said with a chuckle.

Newt frowned a little. “How long have I been out?”

“Little over a week.”

Newt’s eyes went wide. “A week?” he repeated incredulously.

“Yeah. You were pretty shucked up, man. Several broken ribs, compound fracture in your leg, you pretty much shattered your ankle. I know it’s not necessarily what you wanted, but it’s a miracle you’re alive right now.”

Newt sighed. He had certainly hoped for a different outcome, but seeing how much it had upset Minho made him question the decision. Was there something else he could’ve done that wouldn’t have hurt so deeply those he cared about? It definitely hadn’t felt like it at the time, and even now he couldn’t come up with any alternatives, but seeing and hearing about how Minho reacted sent a stab of guilt through him.

Newt was pulled out of his thoughts when Alby spoke up again. “Can I ask you something?” He continued when Newt made an affirmative noise. “Why’d you do it?”

Newt hesitated, unsure of what to say. He certainly knew why he had jumped, but he didn’t know how to phrase it in a way that would make sense to Alby. Alby, to his credit, sat quietly, giving Newt as much time as he needed, which Newt was extremely grateful for. The behavior was a little out of character – Alby had always been one to demand answers, which was what made him an effective leader – but he appeared to recognize the sensitivity of this issue, and so he kept quiet.

Before he could answer, the door creaked open, drawing Newt’s attention. Minho stood there, arms crossed, and Newt felt a little nervous. They stared at each other for a second before Minho spoke up, “Hey Alby, give us a minute, will you?”

Newt heard Alby get up from his chair and saw him walk toward the door in his peripheral vision. He stopped by Minho on his way out, clasping his shoulder and whispering something in his ear that Newt couldn’t catch. Minho’s face softened just a touch, and Newt wondered what the dark-skinned boy had said. 

Alby suddenly turned back to face Newt. “Oh, almost forgot. Med-jacks wanted you to know that they’ve been giving you something for the pain, and as long as you don’t try to move too much, you should be fine. So just relax and get some rest. Good that?”

“Good that,” Newt affirmed, and Alby left with a short nod, leaving Minho and Newt alone in the room. Minho sighed and walked over to the bed, sitting down on the recently vacated chair. Only then did Newt notice the heavy bags under the Asian’s eyes and the fact that his posture slumped more than usual, and he grimaced. “I’m sorry,” he whispered again, unable to say anything else. 

Minho just nodded, not saying anything. The silence ate at Newt, and he played with his hands, desperate for any reprieve from the suffocating quiet that enveloped them. Finally, Minho spoke up, in a voice so low that Newt had to strain to make out the words, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to burden you,” Newt admitted, and hurriedly continued when Minho shot him a murderous look. “I mean… Ugh…” He rubbed his face with the palms of his hands while his brain struggled to put words together. Judging by the death stare Minho was directing his way, if his explanation wasn’t satisfactory, he may very well wish he had succeeded out in the maze. 

“What I mean is, at first, talking to you really helped, Min. It really did. I used to look forward to you asking how I was, so we could just chat and I could get everything off my chest.” He paused and took a deep breath before continuing. “But at some point, I stopped feeling better after we talked. And then I started feeling worse. I mean, you’re keeper of the runners. You have enough problems to worry about. I just felt like it wasn’t worth burdening you with how messed up my life is when it wasn’t even helping anymore.”

Newt heard Minho take a shaky breath and glanced up at him. His face showed a mix of pain and anger, as if his brain couldn’t decide whether to cry or punch Newt. Luckily he didn’t go with the latter, though the exhaustion and resignation that surfaced on his features hit Newt just as hard. 

When he finally spoke, his voice was weak. “Shuck… And here I was thinking you’d put all that behind you.” The regret in his voice was palpable, and Newt’s heart clenched tightly. He wanted to hug the boy and reassure him that it wasn’t his fault, that he wasn’t to blame for Newt’s own decisions. He thought back to all the times he had put on a smile, insisting that he was fine over and over again, only to have that smile drop from his face the second Minho turned away. _I did it to save him the trouble_ , he told himself, but a nagging voice in the back of his mind refused to accept the excuse. _Does that balance out what you’ve put him through over the past week?_

“It is worth it,” Minho began again, tearing Newt form his thoughts. “You’re worth it. Talking to me about your problems certainly isn’t a burden, but even if it were, I’d still happily do it. Because you’re worth it.” 

Minho stared straight into Newt’s eyes as he spoke, and Newt felt the authenticity of those words. He saw in Minho’s glistening, shining eyes nothing but honesty and compassion and love, and Newt felt his insides tumble as if he were on a roller coaster as his mind struggled to sort through the waves of shame and remorse, relief and gratitude, love and devotion that overwhelmed him. 

“I don’t think you realize what you mean to me, to all of us,” Minho continued. “Not sure if you’ve realized, but you’re the first person everyone here goes to when we need someone to talk to. You’re the one mediating our conflicts, making sure we keep our heads on our shoulders. Alby may be decisive and strict and good at maintaining order, but you are understanding and caring and shucking fantastic at keeping us hopeful and believing, and if it weren’t for you, we probably would’ve driven Alby out into the maze and destroyed ourselves a long time ago.”

Minho moved a little closer, grabbing hold of Newt’s hand as tears slid down his cheeks. “To tell you the truth, there have been several times when I just wanted to give up as well. And I know how I felt probably didn't even come close to how you felt. But whenever I felt that way, I would go looking for you. And you’d always greet me with that brilliant smile of yours. I suppose I didn’t know at the time whether that smile was genuine or forced through the pain, but it made everything feel alright again. You’ve given me hope and motivation more times than you know, so I’m begging you, please stop being such a considerate shank. You’re not burdening anyone with your problems. I don’t think there’s a single Glader who wouldn’t be willing to listen to you rant because they all know how important you are, and that goes double for me.”

Newt gave a tired smile, which Minho returned. He gave Newt’s hand a quick squeeze, and stood up. “Well, that was sappier than I’d intended, but I think I got my point across,” he said with a grin, and Newt chuckled, nodding in agreement. “Rest up, man. We need your help keeping all those shanks in line out there.” He gestured toward the window with a tilt of his head before walking toward the door. He took a final look back before heading out, closing the door quietly behind him.

Newt lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. He felt a warmth spreading through him as he turned Minho’s words over in his head and smiled to himself. Eventually, he dozed off, just as the first rays of sunlight began peeking in through the window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up, the next few chapters will come slightly later in the day. I'm on the west coast of the US, so it's possible slightly later in the day for me might not be until the next day for you. Don't stress; the chapters will come :)
> 
> Comments, feedback, kudos = love <3


	5. Hope

When Newt woke, the sky was still dark, and the only light came from a single torch mounted on the side of the homestead. The fire cast an eerie glow on the sleeping figures around him, and the shadows danced in the night to the tune of the flickering flame. He glanced at his watch, which informed him that it was 5:30am, and he sighed. It’d been six months since he tried to kill himself; six months since they found out his ankle hadn’t healed properly; six months since he’d been a runner. Yet he found that old habits died hard, and he continued to wake up early every morning, his body expecting to be ready for another day out in the maze. What made matters worse was that he’d always been one of the earlier risers among the runners as well, and so now, his wake-up time was simply laughable.

He sat up. In the past, he had tried going back to sleep, but he’d always been unsuccessful, lying wide awake for the two hours before most other Gladers started rousing. He found it to be a waste of good time, so ever since then, he got started with his day as soon as he woke. After all, there was no shortage of work to be done in the Glade.

He pushed himself to his feet, grimacing when his right foot struck the ground. He limped over to the bathroom, trying to walk off the pain that shot up his leg with every step. It was the same routine every morning. His leg would act up when he first put weight on it but would numb a bit after some time, leaving him almost pain-free for the rest of the day. As long as he didn’t over-exert it, he managed to get by okay. 

Minho greeted him as he walked into the kitchen after he had finished washing up. The keeper was the only other person who consistently got up when Newt did, which Newt was happy about, since it meant they could just chat about whatever came to mind without having to worry about the day’s responsibilities just yet. Newt responded with a quick wave before grabbing an apple from a basket on the counter and joining Minho at his table. 

“How’s your leg?” Minho asked. “Looks like you’re limping a bit more than usual.”

“It’ll be fine,” Newt replied dismissively, reaching down to massage his ankle. “It’s always bad in the morning, so nothing new.”

Minho raised his eyebrows, but didn’t press the matter further, instead opting to change the subject. “It’s Greenie day,” he pointed out. “You excited?”

Newt scoffed, eliciting a slight grin from Minho. “And why, pray tell, would I be excited?”

“Because you’ll have a new Glader baby to take care of,” Mino teased with a smirk. Newt shook his head, but couldn’t stop the smile from spreading on his face. Ever since Alby had named him second-in-command following his recovery, he’d embraced his added responsibility of ensuring the well-being of all the Gladers. The role had quickly earned him the nickname of “Glade Mother,” but Newt didn’t mind the moniker in the least. He had always been very protective and caring of his friends, so he supposed that it fit. 

"Slim it, ya shank," Newt shot back, though there was no heat behind his words. 

Minho chuckled at that and took another bite of his toast. "So what are you up to today?" 

"I mean, should be a pretty low-key day. Probably help out the track-hoes unless something comes up."

"Like a crying Greenie?"

Newt gave Minho an unimpressed stare, while Minho just sat there, a stupid grin on his face. Without a word, Newt stood and walked away, smiling to himself as Minho called after him in apology.

~ ~ ~

Newt jogged slowly over to the box, glancing down at his watch. The alarm had started blaring roughly 10 minutes ago, at which point some of the fresher faces in the Glade had gathered around the box to gossip and conjecture about the new Greenie. The keepers, Newt included, had continued their work and were only heading over now. They’d experienced too many Greenie Days to be particularly excited about another one, and they knew that the box would take a while to arrive anyway, so there was no need to stop work so early. Once upon a time, Alby had tried to mandate that all Gladers had to keep working until the box actually arrived, but Newt had protested, arguing that this little reprieve gave them something to look forward to and boosted excitement and morale. As was usual in decisions regarding Glader happiness, Alby conceded to Newt, and so the tradition remained.

"Newt!" He looked around searching for the source of his name until he noticed Alby waving at him near the front of the group. He strode toward him, the other Gladers making a path to let him through. 

As he neared, a loud clang came from the box, signaling its arrival. Newt and Alby exchanged a look. "Well let's get her opened up," Alby said, and Newt nodded. Grasping a handle each, they pulled on the heavy metal doors, swinging them open. Inside stood a boy, hands in front of his face as if to protect himself from the sudden light that flooded the box. 

Slowly the hands dropped, and Newt found himself gazing into a pair of whiskey colored eyes, which were busy darting from boy to boy, trying to make sense of his situation. When they finally fell on Newt, his breath hitched as the world around him faded away. The boy's eyes were deep and penetrating, yet also so vulnerable that Newt didn't know whether to pity the boy or worry about how much of his soul he was baring to him simply by being the object of his attention. But as quickly as the moment began, so it ended the same way, with his eyes flickering to another unfamiliar face, and Newt was left with an emptiness that he couldn't comprehend. 

Gally jumped into the box, feet hitting the cage with a metallic crash, causing the poor kid to scamper back in fear. "Rise and shine, Greenie! Welcome to your new life," Gally shouted, loud enough for everyone above to hear. The crowd of boys cheered, while Newt just rolled his eyes in exasperation. He could just imagine the jeering grin set upon Gally's face as he said that, which no doubt only terrorized the boy even more. Newt decided that it would probably be a good idea to have a chat with the Greenie sooner rather than later, just to show that there were friendly faces amongst them. 

Somehow Gally managed to get the boy out of the box, and as soon as he did, his eyes went wide while he gawked at his surroundings. He spun in a complete circle, taking in the towering stone walls that surrounded the Glade, staring unbelieving at the mammoth structures. His gaze only snapped down when Alby addressed him, "Hey Greenie, welcome to the Glade."

Alby held out his hand to shake, but the boy just stared at it, unmoving. His brow was creased, and he looked at the outstretched hand with suspicion, as if it would come up and try to slap him at any moment. Eventually Alby lowered it, seeming unfazed by the unreciprocated gesture, and continued on with the speech he gave all the Greenies.

While Alby talked, Newt found himself staring at the new boy. For some inexplicable reason, he felt drawn to him, more so than he had with the other Greenies. For the others, he had felt sympathy and compassion, since he knew exactly how terrifying it was being thrust into an unfamiliar environment with no memories. But for this boy he felt something more. There was a sense of familiarity that seemed to defy logic, as if they had known each other in a previous life. Perhaps they had met before they were sent here; then again, did that mean he hadn't known any of the other Gladers?

He studied the boy further, noting his height - he was easily among the tallest boys in the Glade - and his physique - he had quite a handsome build, accentuated all the more by the thin shirt he was wearing. His face continued to carry a confused countenance, but the fear had disappeared quite a while ago, replaced by a curiosity and inquisitiveness that Newt hadn't seen in a Greenie for many months. Despite his initial hesitation, he now seemed eager to learn as much as he could, though Alby had largely put a stop to that when he insisted the boy not ask so many questions and to wait for the Tour. As a result, he fidgeted every time something confused him, something Newt found both endearing and comical. 

He realized he'd been staring when he suddenly heard his name. His mind snapped back to reality, just in time to register Alby nodding in his direction and uttering the words "second-in-command." Newt assumed he'd been introduced and extended his hand with a nod and a smile, hoping that he had assumed correctly and that he wasn't making a complete fool of himself. As soon as he did, though, he remembered the boy's reluctance to shake Alby's hand and instantly regretted his decision.

To his surprise, the boy reached out and grasped his hand, giving it a firm shake while eyeing him with a thoughtful and searching glance. Newt shivered at the touch, a little shocked by the confidence evident in his steady hold. He allowed their eyes to meet, and suddenly, Newt was lost in them, swimming in a chocolate sea with no way to escape. The boy gave him a little smile, one that made Newt's heart flutter, that made him question every ounce of doubt and hopelessness that had plagued him for so long, and that made the whole world seem okay again. 

"Thomas," he said, introducing himself for the first time, and Newt knew then and there that Thomas - _Tommy_ \- would be his savior.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, feedback, kudos = love <3


	6. Escape

Thomas was going to be the death of him. Running out into the maze right before the doors closed was bad. Deciding to get pricked by the grievers was worse. Now he was suggesting that they jump blindly into the griever hole, a proposal so shocking that it had taken a solid five minutes to get the Gathering back under control. Actually, before Thomas, just the idea of a non-runner venturing out into the maze probably would have elicited this response. Newt marveled at how much things had changed since Thomas had arrived. What was once a violation of their most important rule now seemed like a walk in a park, albeit a very convoluted one, and it was all because of the boy standing in front of them now. Newt didn’t know whether to be impressed or furious.

“Just hear me out!” Thomas pleaded.

“NO!” Gally screamed, shooting out of his chair. “I’m DONE listening to you! You’ve done nothing but screw everything up, and now you want us to follow you down the griever hole? No way! Kill yourself if you want; we are NOT following you down there!”

“Slim it, Gally,” Newt replied, frustrated with the boy’s combativeness. “He underwent the Changing; we should at least see what he knows.”

Gally turned on him, eyes red with fury. “Of course you’d stand up for him. You’ve encouraged him every step of the way and look where it’s gotten us!” He took a few menacing steps toward Newt until he was towering above the boy. Newt just stared back with steely glare, knowing that Gally wouldn’t dare do anything to him. Thomas, however, apparently did not share Newt’s confidence, as he lunged forward and grabbed hold of Gally, yanking him back away from Newt.

Gally spun around and punched Thomas in the jaw, sending the younger boy sprawling backward onto the ground. Newt reacted then, jumping to his feet and launching himself at Gally. He tackled the taller boy, hitting him squarely in the gut with his shoulder and eliciting a strained _oof_ that satisfied Newt more than it should have. He managed to pin Gally to the ground and was just about to punch him across the face when he felt strong arms wrap around his chest, pulling him back and away from Gally.

Newt struggled against the grip for a bit, but gave up when it refused to loosen. “Calm down, Newt,” he heard Minho whisper against his ear, and he turned to see the Asian giving him a stern look. Newt took a deep breath and nodded, and Minho let him go.

“What have you always told us, Newt?” Gally continued once he got back to his feet. “Order. Order is what’s kept us alive. Just because you’ve got a crush on this shank doesn’t mean he doesn’t have to follow our rules!”

Gally stormed out of the room, slamming the door as he left, and left Newt staring dumbfounded at where he just stood. _What did he just say? A crush?_ Newt panicked. He thought he had done a pretty good job at hiding his feelings, trying to treat Thomas as he would any other Glader. But if even Gally knew… Newt glanced around the room, trying to read the other Keepers’ expressions. To Newt’s dismay, none of them seemed particularly surprised – that is, until Newt’s gaze fell on Thomas. The boy’s eyes were wide as saucers as he stared at Newt, and Newt felt a little queasy under his scrutiny. He lowered his eyes, staring down at his feet before deciding to walk back to his seat, pointedly avoiding Thomas’s gaze as he sat down.

“Alright,” Minho said, his steady voice calming Newt’s nerves somewhat. “Now that that’s over, let’s hear what you have to say.”

“O-Okay,” Thomas stammered, and Newt risked a glance up. As soon as he saw Thomas, he wished he hadn’t. The boy was adorably flushed, and he visibly fumbled for words as he tried to respond to Minho, both of which caused Newt’s insides to tumble.

Thomas launched into his explanation, but Newt found himself unable to concentrate on his words, his mind instead fixated on what Gally had said. It was certainly true that Thomas was different from the other Gladers; Newt had known that the instant he laid eyes on the boy. He had found himself drawn to Thomas, as if by some invisible force, and he had taken every opportunity he could to be close to him, offering to show him around the Glade and joining him for meals. The day Thomas had told him that he wanted to be a runner, Newt had had a mini breakdown. He certainly didn't want to hold him back, yet he knew first-hand how caustic the maze could be. In the end, he had acquiesced, but his heart still clenched every morning he watched Thomas leave the safety of the Glade.

At some point, Newt had admitted to himself that he was attracted to the Greenie, but at the same time, he vowed never to reveal that fact to anyone. Part of him was scared of how Thomas would react – if he pulled away or shut him out, Newt was sure he would spiral into another depression. But more importantly, they’d never had a romantic relationship in the Glade before. As second-in-command, Newt had to maintain constancy and order, and a relationship would certainly disturb that. And so he decided to keep his thoughts to himself, both for his own sanity and for the good of the Glade.

Newt squeezed his eyes shut. Obviously he had failed at that. Judging by their reactions, the rest of the Keepers already knew. Judging by HIS reaction, Thomas didn’t. Or, at least, he hadn’t. Newt groaned to himself. He was so not ready to deal with this right now. 

“Newt?”

Newt glanced up, startled, to find the entire Gathering looking at him expectantly. 

“You wanna sign off on our decision to go ahead with Thomas’s plan?” Minho asked with a smirk, evidently enjoying Newt’s blank and confused stare.

“Uh… yeah. Let’s do it,” he said finally, not entirely sure what he just agreed to.

“Okay,” Minho nodded. “Then let’s get ready. Newt and I will gather our weapons. Keepers, get your Gladers together and walk them through the plan; Thomas, you talk to the runners for me. We’ll meet by the East Door in an hour.”

They concluded then, and Newt followed Minho to the weapons shed, making sure to avoid Thomas on his way out. Newt pulled out his key and unlocked the door, opening it for Minho to enter. No sooner had he closed it again behind them than Minho spoke up. “So I take it you weren’t aware you were being painfully obvious about your feelings toward the Greenie?” 

Newt groaned and buried his face in his hands. “Do we have to talk about this?”

Minho laughed as he walked to the far wall, picking up a few spears and handing them to Newt. “No, we don’t, but humor me,” he said with a wink.

Newt sighed. “No, I wasn’t aware. When’d you figure it out?”

“About five minutes after he came out of the box.”

Newt spun around instantly. “What?” He asked incredulously.

Minho gave him a little smile and shook his head. “You were staring so hard you practically drooled over him,” he teased, earning another groan from Newt. “To be fair, I was actually pretty impressed with you. I mean, you definitely were trying just a little too hard to get to know him, but if I were you, I probably would’ve jumped him the first chance I got, so kudos.”

Newt glared at Minho, who simply smiled and went about sharpening some daggers he had pulled from a nearby shelf. He was about to respond when a knock came from the door. Newt strode over, opening it a crack to see who it was, and promptly found it difficult to breathe.

“Hey Newt,” Thomas said, standing sheepishly outside the door. “Can we talk?”

“Uh… Sorry, Tommy. Little busy in here getting ready,” Newt stammered lamely, kicking himself for not being able to come up with anything better.

“I got this!” Minho shouted from inside. “You guys go have your talk!”

Newt hesitated and looked back at Minho, who simply nodded toward the door and mouthed the word “Go”. Newt sighed, scratching the back of his head, and stepped out, closing the door behind him.

They walked deeper into the woods, neither uttering a word. Newt gulped, eyes cast down in front of him, not sure if he should be the first to say something. Luckily, he didn’t have to make that decision, as Thomas suddenly stopped and spoke up. 

“Is it true?”

Newt spun around and found himself staring deep into Thomas’s eyes, eyes that were filled with uncertainty and… Hope? Newt furrowed his brow, unsure what to make of the mixed emotions he saw in those dark spheres, and ultimately decided to play it safe.

“Uh… No. I mean, not no, but… Ugh.” He buried his face in his hands again and slid down to sit against a tree. “Tommy,” he tried again. “I do care about you, more than I’ve ever cared about anyone else. But our job is to get out of here right now, and that’s what we have to focus on. We can figure everything else out later.”

Thomas chuckled, and Newt looked up to see that the boy had relaxed substantially. “Minho said you’d say something along those lines.”

“Wha-What? Who said what now?”

Thomas laughed out loud, the sweet sound traveling through the air like a song, and Newt couldn’t help but smile at the genuine happiness radiating from him. “You’re adorable when you’re confused, you know,” he said as he knelt down in front of Newt, who could only stare back with wide eyes.

_Did he just call me adorable?_

“Minho told me to just tell you, but I never found the courage. Now I wish I’d said something sooner,” he whispered those final words as his hand reached out to graze Newt’s cheek, sending shivers down the blond boy’s spine. They stared at each other for what felt like forever, before Thomas sighed and pulled back his hand, causing Newt to instinctively move forward, whining at the lost touch. “But you’re right, we should focus on getting ourselves out first.”

Newt stared at Thomas, conflict brewing inside him. As much as he wanted to stay with Thomas, the leader in him knew that they had a job to do, and that had to be his top priority. Thomas, sensing the struggle Newt was going through, stood up then, earning a longing look from the blond.

“I’ll see you at the East Door,” he said with a smile. “Oh, and Minho said to tell you that it’s okay to be selfish sometimes. His words, not mine!”

With that, he walked away, leaving Newt alone to stare off at the retreating figure. _It’s okay to be selfish sometimes_ , Newt repeated to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, feedback, kudos = love <3


	7. Flare

“Hey bun,” a voice said from behind him at the same time as two arms wrapped around his chest. Newt leaned back into the hug, sighing contently when a soft kiss landed on the back of his head.

“Hey Tommy,” Newt replied, a smile dancing across his face. “What’re you doing up? It’s not your watch yet.”

“Mmm… Can’t sleep,” Thomas muttered, burying his face in Newt’s golden locks.

Newt chuckled. “Really? Because you seem pretty tired and cuddly right now.”

Thomas sighed and loosened his grip on the blond before moving to sit next to him. Newt frowned when he saw the puffy eyelids and downcast expression on his face. “What’s wrong?” he asked, scooting closer to the brunet and wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

“I keep seeing their faces whenever I close my eyes,” Thomas whispered after a long pause.

“Ah,” Newt nodded. He rested his head on the taller boy’s shoulder and started rubbing his back, knowing that that helped calm Thomas down. It certainly seemed to help, as Thomas took a deep breath, and Newt felt Thomas’s body relax. “It’s not your fault, you know?”

Thomas grunted, causing Newt to cringe. He wished he could do more to help the boy. Ever since they’d escaped the maze, Thomas had had trouble sleeping at night, burdened with both the responsibility of leading them into the Scorch and with the knowledge that his plan had led to the deaths of half of the Gladers. Newt had tried to convince Thomas that he wasn’t responsible for the deaths – they had, after all, known the risks of trying to escape and agreed to follow him on their own accords – but it didn’t particularly satisfy his conscience, and nights like tonight happened much more often than Newt would have liked.

“Hey, come here,” Newt urged, using his free hand to cup Thomas’s cheek, pulling him closer for a gentle kiss. Thomas obliged willingly, and Newt relished in the feeling of soft lips against his own. All too soon, Thomas pulled away, repositioning himself so that he laid on the ground with his head in Newt’s lap, and Newt smiled, running his fingers through Thomas’s silky hair. Thomas purred in response, and within the minute, he was snoring softly, getting some much needed rest.

~ ~ ~

“Slim it, Frypan!” Newt shouted, inserting himself between him and Thomas to break up the shoving match that had developed. As soon as he had separated the two, Thomas stormed off, leaving the small cave they had stopped in for the night. Newt sighed, shot Frypan a stern look, and moved to chase after Thomas.

Luckily, he didn’t have to go too far. Thomas sat a little ways away from the entrance of the cave, and Newt limped over gingerly. Thomas apparently heard him coming, as he turned around, frowning when he saw Newt’s gait.

“Are you alright?” Thomas asked, concerned.

“I think I should be the one asking that question,” Newt replied dismissively, plopping down in the sand next to Thomas. He reached down to massage his ankle, trying to soothe the pulsing pain emanating from it.

“I’m not the one who’s limping,” Thomas rebutted, pulling the blond closer and wrapping his arms tightly around the boy.

Newt allowed himself to sink into Thomas’s embrace. “I’m fine,” Newt lied. “Just a little pain; nothing I haven’t dealt with before.”

“Are you sure? I mean, we could slow down if it’d –”

“No!” Newt interrupted, and Thomas looked taken aback by the force behind his voice. “Sorry, I just…” Newt sighed and shook his head, trying to clear his thinking. “I don’t want to hold us back. The sooner we get to the mountains, the better off we’ll be. I can manage.”

Thomas continued to look at him worriedly, but let the matter drop, which Newt was grateful for. He certainly didn’t want to be treated any differently just because of his leg. It was his problem to deal with, not anyone else’s, and he wasn’t going to burden them all with the consequences of his own past decisions.

They sat in silence for a while, looking at the horizon far in the distance. The Scorch was so vast; they had been walking for days, trudging through the heat and sand and barely getting any closer to their destination. Their supplies were getting dangerously low, and frustrations were starting to boil over, which had led to Frypan screaming at Thomas for bringing them into “this wasteland”. Thomas had instantly exploded back at him, and Newt knew that Frypan had struck a nerve, so he had intervened quickly before anything could escalate.

He turned to watch Thomas, who had a distant look in his eyes. “He didn’t mean it,” he said finally.

“Huh?”

“Fry. He didn’t mean it. He was just blowing off some steam.”

Thomas sighed and nodded. “Yeah…” He mumbled, eyes cast down at his feet, seeming utterly unconvinced.

“I’m serious,” Newt repeated, pulling out of Thomas’s grasp to turn and properly face the boy. “I know you have your doubts about whether you made the right decision back there, telling us to run for it. And I know what Fry just said probably hit you where it hurt. But I can promise you. You made the right choice. There was no place for us there, with WICKED. And we all know that, including Fry.”

Thomas’s lips quivered, and Newt saw tears welling up in the boy’s eyes. He quickly raised his hand to wipe them away, but they reformed, and this time, Thomas let them stay. “We’re lost, Newt. I have no idea where we’re going,” he whispered as they fell.

Newt’s heart broke at the sight, and he reached over, wiping away the tears gently. “We’ve been lost before,” he said simply, trying to reassure the brunet.

“Not like this,” Thomas lamented, eyes wandering across the never-ending sand. “Not like this…”

“Well it doesn’t matter,” Newt shot back, a little more forcefully than he had intended. “It doesn’t matter that we don't know where we’re going. Because we’ll be together. All of us. We’re a family, Tommy, and no matter where we end up or what we have to face, we’ll be just fine as long as we stick together.”

Newt stared straight into Thomas’s eyes, daring him to challenge his words. When he didn’t, Newt moved forward and pressed their lips together, determined to erase the uncertainty that still lingered. He felt Thomas respond hungrily, passionately, as if he were determined to draw the strength and confidence that Newt had in him. When they broke, they were both breathing heavily, and Newt cupped Thomas’s face, forcing the boy to meet his gaze.

“We’re not giving up, Tommy. You’re not giving up. I won’t let you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, feedback, kudos = love <3


	8. Sacrifice

_My name is Newt. My name is Newt. My name is Newt._

He stumbled through the deserted hallways, looking for somewhere to spend the night. His breaths came in ragged gasps as he limped forward, the result of both the steady pain in his ankle and his intense concentration as he struggled to keep his mind clear.

“Ah!” he cried as he fell forward, his foot catching on a large crack in the linoleum that he hadn’t noticed. He crashed into the ground, landing hard enough to knock the air out of him and break his focus. A sudden anger overcame him for being so careless, and he slammed his fist into the ground in frustration. The debris scattered around the floor left several deep cuts where they collided with his hand, forming a steady stream of blood, but he felt no pain. A furious scream erupted from his throat, and he tugged at his hair, trying to remove the foreign presence he felt within.

The next thing he knew, he was holding fistfuls of blond hair that he was shocked to recognize as his own. He squeezed his eyes shut, taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself down. It seemed to work, as his mind cleared slightly, making way for the stinging pain from his most recent injuries. He hissed, but tolerated it, preferring the pain to the lack of control that was the alternative.

“Such pretty hair,” a voice rang from behind him, and he spun around, scampering back when he was met with wild, crazed eyes. Their owner laughed at his fear, a sharp, piercing cackle that made him want to cover his ears. It sounded animalistic, predatory almost, which he supposed fit with the inhuman figure hunched before him.

She slowly crawled toward him, causing him to retreat, wanting to keep enough distance between them to escape if necessary. “Let me touch it,” she purred, and he shook his head, not wanting anything to do with her. “Just one touch,” she insisted, moving ever closer, and again, he retreated, getting more and more anxious with every passing second.

“LET ME TOUCH IT!” she screamed suddenly, her face contorting into a snarl as she lunged forward. He yelped and kicked out reflexively, connecting with her face with a sickening _crunch_ , and she howled in pain. He sprung to his feet before she could recover and sprinted as fast as his leg would allow away from there, deeper into the heart of the Palace.

~ ~ ~

“Tell them to leave me alone!” Newt shouted at the guards that confronted him. He turned away as they left, cursing his friends for coming here.

_Don’t they understand? I can’t go with them. I’m too dangerous._

“Newt!”

Newt groaned inwardly. Of course they wouldn’t listen. Thomas had always been stubborn, always needing to get his way. He pushed down the anger that threatened to rise and turned to face his friends.

_Friends. They are my friends._

“Newt…” Thomas whispered, sadness filling his eyes as he saw the state of the blond. Newt cringed. He knew he looked like klunk. Ever since he had been brought to the Crank Palace and had the encounter with that woman, he had tried to lie low, but that proved to be near impossible. Everywhere he went, someone seemed to take a keen interest in him, wanting to get far too close for Newt’s liking. For the most part, he tried to be defensive, protecting himself and running when he could, but occasionally, his anger got the better of him, and he lashed out, usually hurting himself in the process.

“I told you shanks to leave,” he snarled.

Thomas flinched then, evidently taken aback by Newt’s hostility. “Newt, please,” he said, as he took a step closer.

“NO!” Newt screamed, grabbing ahold of the launcher he had left behind him and aiming it at Thomas. He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to regain control of his muscles, succeeding just in time to prevent himself from squeezing the trigger. “Don’t come any closer.”

“Whoa, Newt! Look, I’m not gonna hurt you. Just come with us… Please… We’ll find a way to help you.”

Newt could see the sincerity in Thomas’s eyes, but all he felt was hatred for the boy. “Shuck it, Tommy. How dare you come here and ask me to leave with you,” he said in a low tone that dripped with venom. “You bloody betrayed me, Tommy. You bloody BETRAYED ME!”

Newt felt himself losing control again, and it took everything he had not to succumb to the foreign hold on his brain. When he had regained some semblance of clarity, he looked at Thomas again, and he felt a wave of regret. Thomas looked heart-broken; his eyes filled with tears, and he wore a grief-stricken expression on his face. 

“I don’t understand,” he cried, and Newt averted his gaze. Even in this state, he couldn’t bear to see the boy look so sad.

“I don’t expect you to, Tommy,” he said, sighing a little. “I’m not like you anymore. And I need you to accept that and leave. Now.”

“No, we’re not leaving you behind,” Minho interrupted suddenly, taking a step forward.

“SHUCK IT,” Newt screamed, aiming his launcher at the Asian. “You don’t know how hard it is for me to stay sane right now,” he panted, struggling against the fury that threatened to overtake him. “Leave now, or I’ll shoot.”

Minho stared back unmoving, seemingly about to argue back. But he hesitated when Thomas grasped his arm and gave him an almost imperceptible shake of his head. Minho’s eyes immediately softened, and the two boys both looked back at Newt with deep pain and sorrow.

Thomas stretched out his arms toward Newt, and for one wonderful moment, his love for his Tommy seemed to conquer the Flare, giving him more clarity than he had had in weeks. He dropped his weapon and flew into Thomas’s arms, feeling them wrap around him tightly as if they never wanted to let go. They shared one final, lingering kiss, one that Newt hoped he would remember forever. They stayed like that for what felt like hours, relishing the other’s touch, for they were both aware that this may be their last opportunity to feel each other against their skin, feel the warmth of their body, the beat of their heart.

Slowly, but surely, Newt felt himself slipping away, the disease slithering its way into his consciousness once again, and against the desires of every fiber of his being, he forced himself to pull back. Thomas let out a pitiful whimper, one that broke Newt’s heart but strengthened his resolve. He couldn’t let Thomas get hurt because of him. Even worse, he couldn’t be the one to hurt Thomas.

He cleared his throat and wiped away the tears he didn’t know had fallen. “You need to go,” he said finally. “Now.”

Though he refused to look at Thomas, he heard the other boy sigh, and eventually he heard the sound of footsteps pattering away. He stood there for a long time, trying to calm the grief eating away at his insides and the madness chipping away at his mind. Eventually he looked up, taking in his desolate surroundings and feeling a new sensation creep into his soul. It was an emptiness that drained him of all motivation and drive, one that he hadn’t felt since his darkest days in the Maze.

He crumpled to the ground, curling into a little ball. He wanted to cry, but no tears came, and his eyes stared off into the distance, unseeing and unwavering. He took a deep breath and finally, _finally_ gave up his battle against the Flare. He became lost instantly, all sensations numbing as the haze in his brain took control. He felt his body standing up, though he issued no command, and it stumbled forward by its own volition. 

Newt couldn’t care less.

He was done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, feedback, kudos = love <3


	9. Death

“Newt! Hey Newt!”

_Newt? Why does that sound so familiar?_

_My name is Newt._

Newt groaned, struggling to see clearly. He could barely make out the outline of a boy standing in front of him, hands stretched out defensively, cautiously approaching him. 

“Newt, it’s me, Thomas. It’s Tommy.”

_Tommy? Tommy…_

“Do you remember me?”

His vision cleared, and he felt the tiniest surge of joy at seeing a familiar face before anger set in again. “Of course I bloody remember you. You came and told me to go with you. Couldn’t even just leave me alone, could you? Just had to go and rub it in my face that you ignored my note. I trusted you, Tommy, and you betrayed me.”

Thomas visibly shrunk back at the words. “No, Newt… That’s not why I –”

“They why?” Newt screamed, lumbering forward unsteadily. “Why did you come? Why are you HERE?”

Thomas held his ground. “I came for you, Newt,” he whispered in a barely audible voice, eyes glistening with tears. “I need you. Please. Please come back with me. We’ll find a way to help you. To save you.”

Newt laughed bitterly, head twitching a little. “Just leave, Tommy. Go away and leave me be.”

“Please Newt,” Thomas begged. “Come with me. I’ll do anything.”

“ANYTHING?” Newt exploded. “Really, Tommy? You’ll do anything?” Newt scoffed, before turning to face him head on. “Then kill me. Do the one thing I’ve ever asked of you and kill me now.”

Thomas’s face instantly drained of color, and he stared at Newt with a conflicted expression. “No… Newt, not that. I can’t.”

Newt growled, unable to contain the anger that boiled within, and charged at Thomas. He collided with the boy, sending them both crashing to the ground just as the sound of a Launcher firing came from behind Thomas, the projectile narrowly missing the two.

“YOU SHUCK TRAITOR!” Newt screamed at the boy pinned below him. “I hate you, Tommy! It’s all your fault! All of it!” Newt could see the fear in the brunet’s eyes, but his brain refused to acknowledge it. “You want to know why I have this limp, Tommy?”

Thomas shifted slightly underneath him but nodded quietly.

“I tried to kill myself in the Maze,” Newt explained, voice low and dangerous. “Climbed halfway up one of those bloody walls and threw myself off. I HATED it in there, Tommy. Hated it. And it was ALL YOUR FAULT!”

Newt stared into Thomas’s wide eyes, and something stirred within him. The dark whiskey orbs looking back at him carried within them a familiarity, a sense of comfort, and Newt was suddenly jolted into the present.

_Oh shuck. No no no. This can’t be happening. I can’t hurt him._

He struggled to control himself, to regain his autonomy. It was getting harder and harder, but he managed to pull himself together before he did anything regrettable. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Thomas’s hand wrapped around the butt of his gun, and he instantly grabbed hold of his wrist, pulling the weapon toward his head.

“Newt!” Thomas protested, trying to pull his hand away, but Newt’s grip was tight and he couldn’t free himself.

“Now make amends,” Newt cried, tears streaming down his face. “Kill me before I become one of them.”

“Newt, I can’t,” Thomas whimpered. As he stared into the pained chocolate eyes, Thomas relived all their memories: the first time they met, the nights they spent together staring at the stars in the Glade, the day they finally admitted they liked each other (to the relief of all their friends), and the last time he had seen him, when he had walked away, leaving him alone and beaten down in the Crank Palace. How could Newt expect him to walk away again, when the first time had been so unbearably heart-wrenching?

“Do it,” Newt urged. “Kill me or I’ll kill you.”

_Do it, Tommy. Please._

“I can’t!”

Anger flared in Newt once more, and he struggled to contain it. “KILL ME,” he screamed, and suddenly he gasped, as full clarity returned to his mind. He felt Thomas’s breath hitch below him, and he knew that Thomas had noticed the change in him as well. Newt shivered, suddenly feeling very weak, and fell against Thomas’s chest, burying his face in the crook of Thomas’s neck. He cried, soaking the brunet’s shirt, and he felt strong arms wrap around him, holding him close. He forced himself to memorize the feel of Thomas’s body under his, knowing that he will never experience such comfort again.

He pushed himself up, needing to feel Thomas’s lips against his own. He attacked them hungrily, wanting to experience everything before he no longer could, and Thomas complied, submitting to Newt completely. Eventually, they parted, but Newt remained close, their lips separated by mere centimeters, as he took heavy, shaky breaths in an attempt to slow his heartbeat. He opened his eyes, not knowing when they had closed, and scanned Thomas’s features, gazing deep into the eyes of the boy he loved.

He sat up, pulling Thomas’s hand back to his head, never breaking eye contact. “Please, Tommy. Please.” 

Thomas nodded, a look of pained resignation on his face. “I love you, Newt,” he whispered. “More than you know.”

Newt managed a small, sad smile. “Me too.”

He watched as Thomas squeezed his eyes shut and took a few breaths. He felt the gun on his temple vibrate, followed by a sharp pain at the same location.

_Thank you, Tommy_ , he thought, and the world went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew. What a journey. Hope you guys enjoyed it! If you need something to help the angst (as I did), feel free to take a look at [You're My Glue](http://archiveofourown.org/series/759459), if you haven't already.
> 
> As always, comments, feedback, kudos = love <3


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